


I'm Waking Up, I Feel It In My Bones, I'm Radioactive

by JamesAlexander



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Some Fluff, Some angst, the usual for teen wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 01:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesAlexander/pseuds/JamesAlexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just one shot thing, something I wrote while listening to Imagine Dragons' <i> Radioactive </i>. It was really something I wrote just to indulge my Sterek feels, and to kill time. Now I have to study, so yeah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Waking Up, I Feel It In My Bones, I'm Radioactive

The darkness creeps around him, as the Sun dies behind the horizon, the moon starts to stand tall in the sky shining down on everything he see, casting shadows on the forest that should creep him out. But how can he be afraid of the things that hide in the dark if he feels like darkness himself? It's cold around him, sitting in the Jeep, watching over the ruined house, burnt in the past, a beacon to remind them of who are the real perverted and currupted monsters. Eleven people killed. He can almost hear them scream, begging for mercy or a quick death at least.

His heart feels tighter; his ribcage starts to strangle his lungs, keeping him from breathing properly. He tries to breath, shallow breaths, not enough air, not enough oxygen. The tears start to flow down his cheeks freely. And then there is a pair of red glowing eyes in the dark. When he focuses on them, they disappear, running away from his own brown eyes. Everything seems to be collapsing on him. He doesn't even jump away when the Jeep's door opens, and he feels a warm body sitting next to him.

"Stiles" He says, deep voice gentle like he had never heard it before.

"D-Derek." He stutters

It's hard to talk, everything heavy on his shoulders. The lies to his father, the wonds and scars he has to hide, the fragility of his human body. All of them could kill him literally with two fingers only, and all he could do was fucking research. What was that good for when you had someone like Lydia or Danny around? The only thing that he could do had been taken from him.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asks, and it's clear how scolding his voice is.

"If you came here to give me the parent's talk, save it for another day." Stiles hisses as he looks away from him, even though he wants to lay eyes on the Alpha.

He chuckles shamelessly. When had Derek become a synonym of safety? When had he started to come to the shell of a house whenever he felt like this, felt so corrosive to the others around him, to his general vicinity? He could feel the Werewolf looking at him with an inquiring expression (that and he could also see his reflection on the window, because really, Stiles’s perception wasn’t great when he was like this).

“What do you want from me then?” Derek interrogates, looking ahead, towards the house.

“What makes you think I want something from you?” Stiles says, turning his head to Derek, in a challenging stance.

“I can’t see what other reason you would come here.” Derek shrugs.

And Stiles hates him. He hates how he is right. He hates how his green eyes are always mirroring a mild pain, guilt for what happened. Sometimes even Stiles blames him for the fire. He knows about Kate and Derek. Derek had told him once, when Stiles was especially nosey and Derek was more bumped than usual. He hadn’t been able to hide the surprise and disgust in time. And Derek bore that like a cross every time he was with Stiles. Everyone else had noticed it, and Stiles had tried so hard to make it better, but Derek kept on pushing him away, after luring him with small confessions about his life with the Hales. Stiles hates him and loves him for that, for trusting him, for saving his life countless times and never thanking him when he saves his. It infuriates him how much he likes Derek, how much he wants to hold Derek and lull him to sleep. But he is just as damned broken as Derek, how can he fix someone else if he can’t even fix himself?

Derek is looking at him, no, into him, trying to figure out in Stiles’s eyes the reason why he came here, like he couldn’t smell it with his Werewolf senses. Stiles growls as he closes the distance, lips clashing against lips, warm, wet, slick. One of them moans into the kiss, probably Stiles. Derek leans back, breaking the kiss, eyes closed, pained expression as he fights to let out his next words between panting and gasping.

“Stiles, you’re seventeen. I’m twenty-five.” Derek says.

Stiles laughs about it. He just can’t do anything else but laugh.

“Of all the reasons this is wrong, you chose that one, Derek?!” Stiles scolds, as he straightens his body. “I can’t believe you, seriously.

“There are more reasons, I know of that, that was just the first that came up in my mind and-“

“We’re broken. There’s Kate in your past. My father’s the Sheriff. You are a Werewolf that could rip me apart easily every full moon. Being with you might make a target out of me for other creatures and hunters, though as you can see, that is already a problem.” Stiles cut him, his eyes on Derek’s. “Get out.” He sighs finally, after a moment of silence.

“Stiles, I-“ Derek tries again.

“No, Derek, if you are going to tell me to wait for me to turn eighteen for this to happen, I am not like that, you can’t take me for granted like that, you hear me? Because if you want-“

“I want!” Derek roars, as he lurched  forward, capturing Stiles’s lips once more with his.

This time, Stiles’s parts his lips, as Derek licks his way into his mouth, tongues wrestling against each other. Derek pulls back, his forehead against Stiles’s, panting, his sweet breath hitting Stiles’s face pleasantly.

“Despite all the reasons this is wrong, that doesn’t change the fact that I want you so fucking bad.” Derek sighs.

“All I heard in that sentence was ‘I want’ and ‘fucking’ and I say yes please.” Stiles blurts out, ripping a loud laugh out of Derek’s throat, that the teenager kisses away. “So, no sex…?” Stiles whines.

“No.” Derek shrugs. “Not here.”

“You mean-“ Stiles says, wide-eyed.

“You drive, I’ll give you directions to my apartment in town.” Derek suggests, smiling.

“Is this really happening?” Stiles asks.

“Not if you keep me waiting, no…” Derek huffs, rolling his eyes.

And Stiles isn’t up for making Derek wait, if you know what I mean…


End file.
